their senses. They say they do take much delight in the torment of these soules and the procurement of money from villages to feather themselves a good nest. More than four score were sent to their deaths, in that County, and some only childs.’
I copied it down and flicked through the pages till I reached the end of that volume. The text was fascinating but not incredibly useful. I was in two minds as whether to read the next volume; sleep was calling me and the wine had dulled my senses.
Thank God I did.
It began in March 1647. I read about Braybrook’s exploits with some degree of interest until I came to another entry concerning Chelmsford, dated to August. This journey took Braybrook further north, to a merchant in Ardleigh, a village set between Manningtree and Colchester. My heart began to quicken as I read his words:
‘A bad day of trade. Glad to leave. Towards Colchester, my horse did much afear’d rise up for a figure did shoot forth from the hedgerow. I was thrown and once recover’d saw a young woman fallen across the way. She was much aggriev’d and beset by woe, without her wits. I was loathe to leave her and so did pick her up and transport her to Colchester town, whereby I install’d her in a room at my lodgings.’
I turned the page. The next entry was presumably dated to the following day although there was nothing on the transcript to indicate a break in time but a couple of blank lines.
‘The morning I visit’d the market. When I return’d to the Inn, the woman was recovered in the flesh, yea still pale as milk. She did put me in mind of my own dear daughter Catherine who departed from this world twenty years long. Her’s too was hair the colour of moonless nights, eyes a paler stone. In those attributes the likeness was striking. But at this present time the young woman’s wits are disordered and her spirits much distress’d.
Later upon learning it was I who roused her and conveyed her to this place she did, straight off, throw herself at my feet and cried out for some small “mercy”. Alarm’d I bid her tell me her sorrow.
The dreadful tale she did recount most provok’d me. For she had been cruelly treated by a gentleman who had stolen her virtue and left her with child. Some moneys being left for her upkeep did afford her a modest cottage. Though this did not last long and soon she was cast out of doors. Shunned by the village and shamed she was reduced to poverty, able only to provide for the child by way of begging.
When she did lately hear that the man had return’d from his travels she sought him out and implor’d him to relieve their suffering. The gentleman did give her a guinea and, seeing she could not care for the child, took it from her to be nursed.
Rebecca, for that was, I learnt, her name did find herself in grievous distress, enduring great misery without the babe and soon did repent of her decision. When she went to the gentleman for her child he was terrible cold. He scorn’d her and did throw her off. Rebecca swore before him she would repeat her pleas time and again in his ears until he did tell where the child now liv’d. The gentleman did wickedly laugh and tell her she could ne’er follow him where he was bound. When she pressed him he did boast of travelling the morrow to London and henceforth voyage across the sea.
Rebecca’s spirits flew about her heart. She was put into great fright and made off to find her cousin, Robin Drakers, most recently returned from war. I had stumbled over her as she made that journey to his house in Boxted.
I was sincerely affect’d by her discourse and truly her tale did fire my heart. She did appear very like Catherine, her being of small size and brittle. My daughter, though, did have me. Rebecca had none there to look to but her one cousin. As she spoke I was driven to such an extremity of vexation as the like never known to me. My inclination was to assist the woman in finding Drakers and I did tell her such forthwith. This proposal was met with tears of gratitude and warmth. Soon I did call for a horse and coach and, having made preparations for victuals, we set